The Bank Job
by Guesswhosaninja
Summary: Blake and Yang visit the bank and decide to wait the rain out before leaving. Unfortunately, some dramatic events transpire while they wait.
1. Chapter 1

"Yang, really, it's just a little rain." Blake held open the large glass door with one arm, waiting patiently for her partner.

"No, rain is like this." Yang said, making little sprinkling movements with her fingers to imitate a drizzle. "That," she pointed out to the street, "is a monstrosity."

Blake looked out at the downpour. It pounded the street relentlessly. Gutters overflowed onto the sidewalk and the unceasing roar of rain chilled her even inside the building. She had to admit, the storm was hardly appealing, and Blake didn't fancy the idea of riding on the back of Yang's motorcycle through such weather any more than she.

She pulled the door shut as a pair of black cars sped past, blasting great waves of water from the flooded gutters. Blake stepped back agilely when the water crashed against the glass with a drumroll-like sound. A small puddle seeped through beneath the threshold as Blake moved out of the way.

"Trust me Blake." Yang grinned, sauntering over to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You made the right decision. You do not want to see what I have to do to dry my hair."

Blake gave a wry smile. "It couldn't be as bad as when Ruby convinced Weiss to dry out washing with fire." The edge of her mouth tugged up as Yang rubbed the bridge of her nose at the memory, "But, if you'd rather wait it out in a Bank…" Blake added with a shrug.

She followed Yang's gaze up the long grooves of one of the support pillars to the dancing ripples of water on the skylight. Yang's shoulders dropped, pressing her weight down on Blake.

"You couldn't have picked the arcade, could you?" Yang sighed wistfully, purposefully leaning more of her weight onto Blake. "Banks are so _boring_."

Blake chuckled, pushing Yang off onto her own feet again. "Arcades don't exactly have safety deposit boxes, Yang." She said, pulling at where her bag had caught on Gambol Shroud as she walked towards the empty waiting area.

She sat down gently, crossing her legs and picking up a magazine from the assortment on the end table as she slowly sunk into the soft seat. Yang plopped down beside her with a cushioned thump, kicking her feet up on the table and spreading her arms across the back of the seat. She let out a deep, overdrawn sigh, slipping her phone out of her pocket and idly fiddling with it.

The doors to the back opened and the rushing rain punctuated the entry of several men is dark suits – some baring umbrellas, others briefcases. One swept the beaked hat from his head, flicking it free of water and placing an instrument case on the ground to straighten his startlingly red tie.

"Hey sis!" Yang's voice echoed through the otherwise quiet space, earning an irritable glance from one of the tellers. "What's up?" Yang asked cheerily, oblivious to the irritation of those around her.

Blake turned to her magazine. There wasn't much of interest within; the articles were bland in topic and tone alike, and occassional fashion advertisements only iqued her interest for so long as the thumbed the pages, skimming the writing for something worthwhile.

"Oooh, nice boots!" Yang cooed, leaning across as several of the suited men walked towards the tellers, prodding Blake's page with a finger. "Huh?" She said, diverting her attention back to the phone call with the grace of an Ox, "Nah, Blake just needed a ride down to the bank."

Blake met the eye of one of the new patrons as she looked up, placing the magazine back on the table. He averted his gaze immediately, wringing his hands as he paced back to one of his friends. They spoke in hushed tones, and the visible muscles on the second man's neck tensed harshly as he spoke. Blake could have heard what they said, were it not for her bow muffling her hearing.

"Shut up!" Yang's yell dispelled any chance of eavesdropping anyway, "It's legal for me to drive people. Blake shook her head with a wry smirk as she listened to Yang's conversation. She watched some of the men as they wandered to various places in the bank, eyeing one who stopped next to their table.

She released a soft breath as she looked at the heavy rain outside, and pulled her bag and blade from her back, dumping them beside her seat before sinking further into the comfortabe backrest with a second magazine. "Alright, alright, I'll take you to the arcade next time." Yang muttered.

Something red glinted in the corner of her eye. Yang had stopped her figeting movements, and fell silent. Blake's gaze travelled up, and her magazine fell to the side as she met again the steely gaze of one of the suited men.

A single-edged red sword rested beside her shoulder, with Yang's fizzling cellphone impaled upon its tip. "Don't do anything stupid." The man warned, pushing Blake's bag away from her with his foot as the girls sat in stunned silence.

Shots and shrieks of terror rang out as another of the men – the one who brought an instrument case eariler – leapt atop a table, firing a burst of bullets from a submachine gun with a drum magazine. His accomplices, scattered about the room, drew blades and pistols of various shapes from their false umbrellas and briefcases, rounding up the patrons and workers like cattle.

"My apologies, Ladies and Gentlement." The ringleader said is suave, soothing manner to the corralled people. "Just follow along and you can all go about your day very soon." A touch of foreign accent dipped on his words, and he pinted his gun at one of the bank workers with his gun, resting the stock casually against his hip once he had the man's attention. "You're going to show me where your vault is. The rest of you," he yelled, turning in a slow circle, "please empty your pockets, and don't try anything heroic."

Blake turned to Yang as the spell of confusion faded from her startled mind. "Are these guys really robbing the bank?" Yang asked in bewilderment. Blake rolled her eyes.

"Shut up." The man before them hissed, whipping his sword to the side of Yang's neck.

Yang shot to her feet in an instant. "Hey, fuck you man, you broke my phone!" She yelled. Rage built in her cheeks and her hands curled into fists. Blake grabbed Yang's wrist, yanking her back into her seat when she saw the fires welling in her eyes.

"Yang!" She hissed, digging her fingernails into Yang's pale skin.

The man grit his teeth, and Blake saw his knuckles bale around the hilt of the sword. But he simply pushed her shoulder with the flat of the blade until Yang sat back in her seat. Then he picked up Blade's bag, and with it, Gambol Shroud, and quickly moved to the larger group of people as another woman stood up, defiant against the criminals.

"What the hell?" Yang asked accusatorly, turning to Blake. Her fists were still clenched and her muscles tight. Blake gently released her grip on her wrist.

"That was a foolish move, Yang." Blake said.

"What, you don't think I could've taken him?"

"Please tell me you're not serious right now." Blake squeezed Yang's hand gently, giving her a forced smile. Yang turned, looking over at the crooks as some of them began to move around, shifting everybody to a space in the middle of the room where they could watch them.

"We have to do something though, right?" She whispered, still watching the men. Blake faltered, uncertain. "Who else here is going to fight back?"

"Leave it to the police." Blake replied, "It's their job, Yang, not yours." The words felt somewhat hollow in her mouth. She knew what Yang would be thinking; they were trained to fight, they were skilled and strong, that meant they should do something, didn't it?

_This isn't a story. This isn't training._ Her mind argued back at her. _This is real; and this is dangerous._

"The police aren't going to do anything." Yang mumbled, clenching her fists again.

"You could get hurt." Blake said softly, laying her hand atop Yang's fist. She stood up as one of the men waved a gun at them, beckening them to move. "It's your call." She decided, walking slowly to prolong their conversation. Yang turned to her with wide eyes, and then she settled with resolve and nodded.

Blake flicked her gaze across the room, trying to memorise the positions of the gang before they made a move. She caught sight of which one had her bag, and with it, her weapon. She moved closer.

_This is a terrible idea._


	2. Chapter 2

Blake's muscles felt like they were made of high-tension wire. She stood as though built of taut, stiff steel, the hairs on her arms rising with chilling nerves. Her heart fluttered with nervous anticipation and her eyes darted from the gang leader to Yang, ready and waiting.

Rain echoed through the bank. Fierce torrents hammered upon the skylight, drowning out the hushed and fearful whispers of the patrons gathered around them. A few members of the gang split off with their leader, exiting the main room through the back with one of the tellers.

Blake counted six remaining with them; two walking around the outside edges of the room, searching for stragglers hiding beneath desks or within offices. They disappeared from her view after she counted, obscured by the large columns that supported the enormous domed roof.

The other four were spaced evenly around the circle of hostages, like the points of a compass. She caught Yang's eye and smirked. In comparison to the grim they had trained against, not to mention previous battles, six untrained gang members hardly seemed a challenge.

She could tell the moment when Yang was about to strike. She'd seen it plenty of times before, memorised its intricacies and signs. She'd learned to predict and read her partner nearly seamlessly. Doing so, knowing Yang so well, let them fight in synchrony.

Yang's fists tightened slightly, stilling her arms. Her jaw line set as her lips split in a flash of white. Her feet slipped an inch or two wider, legs bending to solidify her stance in preparation to pounce...

They moved in unison. Yang charged forward and tackled the first man to the ground. Her gauntlets were already formed by the time her shoulder crashed against his flank, and the final metallic click of their formation sounded as she pinned his arm behind his back.

She gave but a half-second of respite between the resonating transformation and cacophonous bursts as she fired three shots with quick jabs towards a second, knocking him to the floor.

Blake slipped behind the thug beside her while Yang's flurry of heroic action distracted him. With a sly flick and twist of her hand, she pulled him into an arm lock and struck him to the floor with a swift blow to the spine. Two further blows to his temple and throat dazed and disoriented him for good measure before he hit the ground.

She slipped her blade from her bag as Yang's bullets rang through the room, sprinting towards the last of the men in their immediate vicinity.

He raised his sword, swinging it high as she neared. Blake feigned a block and ducked beneath the blow, leaving a shadow behind. The blade drifted harmlessly through the false projection of her body, which she swept his foot from beneath him and slammed him to the ground in his unbalanced confusion.

Gunfire and screams erupted around them as the gang retaliated and patrons panicked. Yang rolled behind a pillar for cover and bullets ripped into the solid stone from the second man, who had recovered from Yang's shots.

Blake slid the sheath from Gambol Shroud, tossing the weapon out across the middle of the room. She waited for the precise moment, and whipped the ribbon as it straightened. The shoot floored one of the men, while the ricochet sent the weapon in the opposite direction. It wrapped around the man who was shooting at Yang, and she yanked him off balance, using the momentum to pull herself towards him too.

Yang sprinted forward in the moment, firing behind herself to boost her speed and cover the ground in seconds. She hammered her fist into the man's face, and the floor splintered beneath his body as he slammed against it.

Without slowing, Yang's momentum brought her behind another pillar as a barrage of gunfire followed her from the final gang member.

"Blake!" She yelled, followed with a high-pitched yelp as a large slab ripped from the structure under the relentless suppressive gunfire. Hurried footsteps were barely audible through the cacophony of the gang man's gun, but Blake realised they were about to contend with reinforcements.

She looked around hurriedly, whirling from one side of her pillar to the other. As Blake peeked around the corner, shouts and sounds of sliding steel split the air. The gunman diverted his attention to Blake when he glimpsed her, but she slid back into cover.

She could take him down safely now that she knew exactly where he stood, regardless of the seemingly endless stream of shots digging into her cover.

Blake slid the blade of her weapon sideways, giving the barrel better room to fire, and bounced it lightly in her hand, preparing to throw it.

The weapon spun from her hand smoothly, gliding on a perfect horizontal axis out into the open. Her fingers wrapped around the base of the ribbon, and pulled.

The gun lurched, its trajectory shifting drastically as the recoil of the single shot sent it flying back to Blake in an arc. She caught it fluidly, sliding it back into place with a single motion as she walked calmly from the cover of her pillar.

Yang flicked her a goofy thumbs up in admiration for how she had taken down the shooter. Though she rolled her eyes, Blake couldn't help an accompanying smile.

The patrons murmured quietly, fearfully, some gazing about in wonder as they stood, while others hid their heads and crouched beneath desks. Yang beamed, striking a heroic pose, but they didn't have a moment to rest.

The smile dropped from her jaws as more henchmen burst back into the room, brandishing swords and guns alike. A woman shrieked, and the crowded people rushed about in panic.

Blake and her partner charged forward, darting between people as they moved.

Ahead of her, Blake could see Yang running; she bobbed and wove around flailing arms and fearful limbs. With fists held close to her chest like a boxer, she shifted her shoulders to slip between people, stealing closer to their enemy in the cover of confusion.

From the corner of her eye, Blake caught sight of a man chasing Yang - one of those they had previously downed who had recovered - and a red blade shone above his head.

She screamed at her partner, but it was useless in the drowning chaos.

She fired overhead, shattering two panes of glass in the skylight ahead of her, and tossed Gambol Shroud into the gap. It wrapped around the crossing beam securely, and Blake used it to pull herself into the air with a giant leap.

Eyes turned with the torrent of razor-like rain and glass that ripped inside the building. Blake ignored the scratches and cuts that latticed her skin as she flew upwards through the hail of glass. She let her aura contend, sheltering what it could and healing over the rest. It was weak, sluggish from battle and her own physical exhaustion.

As she reached the peak of her jump, Blake floated, weightless for a moment. Still drifting from the upward pull, she turned, allowing her weapon to fall free from the crossbeam. The world seemed to slow as she moved through the air. She kept her knees high, close to her centre of gravity as she twisted.

She swung her weapon around with her own twisting, throwing it forward, where it wrapped around the large column before her, and tugged again, changing her leap into a downward charge.

Blake slid the second half of her weapon in her hand, whirling it around with her powerful momentum to throw it at the man behind her partner.

The blade ripped into his shoulder, spraying blood into the air with a scream. Yang turned. Gunfire pierced the air. Blake felt a searing pain in her stomach.

She looked down, pressing her hand to her belly as she continued to glide through the air. Her hand came away startlingly red against her pale skin. Her vision wavered, darkness clawing at the very edges, and she heard Yang scream through the dull pumping in her ears.

Blake crashed to the ground. Something shattered beneath her back to break the impact. She tumbled, rolling and bouncing across the unyielding floor. Scratches ripped into her arms. Her back crashed against something solid. Pain shot like a flash of lighting up her neck, blooming behind her eyes.

Sound dulled as though she was underwater when she struggled to rise. Her hand slipped from under her, slick with blood, and she crumpled to the floor again.

Her head smacked against the debris of her fall, and her vision faded.


	3. Chapter 3

Yang felt the fire rising in her gut. It churned like a furnace, belching smoke through her throat. It doused her lungs and filled her mouth, curling behind clenched teeth in black, hateful tendrils against their pristine white shields. It lulled her mind with curling dark fingers, darkening the periphery of her thoughts like a tunnel.

She struggled against the arms that held her, lashing out with a kick that hit nothing but air as the thug tightened his vice and held her steady. Her fists were clenched, skin drawn so tight across her knuckles they felt like they would split, yet still they felt powerless without her gauntlets.

Her eyes were drawn to Blake; that poor, black, white and red lump amidst the shattered splinters of desks. She stirred, and for a moment Yang's eyes glowed with the thought she would stand, but her movements stilled again. Her chest shivered, still breathing, but shallow, shaking with near-inaudible breaths.

And the heat burned. It welled, licking at her lungs with growing fury. Its warmth spread like liquid gold through her veins, causing ripples of rising hairs across her arms, she felt it flow to her feet, filling them with the energy of a restless hound. It wove through her chest, slipping through the curve of her shoulder with burning, searing heat.

The rain was barely a dull echo in her ears, though it roared through the shattered skylight and doubled with the opening doors. Her head snapped when a voice spoke, taunting and cavalier.

"You know when you said 'in and out with the Dust in under an hour', I wasn't exactly picturing _this_. If you'd told me half your men would be down and the roof blown apart, I might not have promised so much."

_Torchwick_. The word blazed in her mind, flashing with dark embers before she even needed to make the connection consciously. She'd heard enough stories from Blake and Ruby to know his face when he appeared. His suit, turned grey as ash by the rain, hair that stole the colours rightly belonging to fire; of course it was him; of course it was _Roman_.

"My my, but we do have some fine fish here, don't we?" Roman strode across the empty bank floor, cane slapping with a soft, wet impact on the floor with every few steps until he drew to a close before Yang. "Ah yes, the girl with the golden hair," He smiled. "...and the golden fists." He added, gazing across her gauntlets, which lay upon a table out of Yang's vision. He drew heavily on his cigar, leaning down to Yang's height. "Junior tells me you have quite the temper."

The glow of his cigar brought forth the fire in her. It flared, tingling through her fingers and coursing upward through her throat. Yang released her clench-toothed hold on it, letting the burning in her heart fuel a savage yell into Roman's face.

He showed little concern, but backed away, and eyed the man who struggled to keep Yang's fitful attempts to escape under control.

Then he turned to Blake.

He stood over her bloodiest body, gently nudging her with his cane, stoking the flames that now coursed freely throughout Yang's body. The man who shot Blake, the leader of this troupe of thugs, stood at Roman's side, baring his teeth.

"And the Faunus from the docks, you really have outdone yourselves, boys."

"Thank you, sir-"

"You let two little girls take out half of your men before you even injured one, do you really think I was congratulating you?" Roman snapped, and the smile vanished from his face immediately, replaced with a serious, flat-lined mask. "Load up the Dust from the vault."

Yang saw Blake flicker. The energy that buzzed in every sinew of her muscles calmed, as though a great withheld breath was released in a slow, measured stream. Roman turned to Blake, raising his cane. The tip flipped up, a tiny trigger dropping within the handle.

Yang tensed. Blake shimmered behind Roman, her arm swept back to strike as the man went to shoot her shadow. Gambol Shroud glinted in the golden light.

Blake was tossed aside by a great blow. The lieutenant, moving with incredible speed, struck her before she could attack his leader, throwing her back against an already cracked bookshelf with a thump like a warhammer on wood.

The fire caught. Her skin sparked and danced with burning, immense heat. The roar of a stoking furnace ripped from Yang's lips in the form of Blake's name. A scream and dropped arms echoed her yell. The man behind her fell, crying, to his feet, cradling burned, seared arms and cloth melted to flesh.

Yang burned.

The fire moved her; it boiled in her blood and pounded in her eyes, driving every muscle in her body with insurmountable strength. She sprinted forward like a panther, gathering the fire in her fist as she crossed to the Lieutenant.

Two teeth flew and fire flared, crackling with her knuckles against his jawbone in a sudden blow. The punch lifted him from his feet, slacked his jaw in fractured segments beneath the skin, and tossed him against the wall before he could rebalance.

Yang didn't stop. She fired forward, pounding his chest, his shoulder, his head. She grappled his chest, pummelling into him with bare and bloody knuckles. Bone cracked and splintered beneath her blows, blood dribbled from his mouth and nose, spraying across the wall as her fist crossed his face once more. She whipped his limp body around and away from the wall.

With a lioness' roar, the huntress struck the man again and again, burning brighter with each blow blast of fire. A crack and dull roll like thunder filled the building, shaking the foundations as his body slammed against the solid pillar supporting the roof.

Fragments of stone sifted from the ceiling and the outer layer of the pillar shattered with his impact, dull slabs and shards of stone falling away in a cloud of dust.

Yang rose, surrounded by flames, thin lines of scarlet traipsing down her fingers as her fists unfurled.

"Don't you dare touch her."

Blake appeared at her side, her blade flashing as it deflected an attack. Her back pushed against Yang as the blow of the blocked attack sent her backwards, and the pair reeled, swiftly rebalancing and facing Roman.

The man gave a wry shrug, raising an eyebrow at the girls. "Sorry ladies, I've really gotta run." He said, lowering his cane to the floor between them.

Blake dove into Yang, throwing her out of the way as he pulled the trigger and tore up the solid ground in a thick cloud of dust and debris.

Yang waved her arm, coughing into one hand as she tried to clear the dust around her. She could hear distant sirens, but the gang were already leaving, fleeing without a second glance at their incapacitated comrades.

Through a mouthful of dust, Yang coughed out a garbled question, spluttering in the dust as Blake knelt at her side. She cleared her throat, speaking with a horse, dry voice through the remnants of the choking cloud. "Fuck, Blake I thought you were-" She winced, and coughed again rather than finish the thought. She blinked through the stinging in her eyes, flicking her head up to Blake again. "You're ok?" She asked instead.

Blake nodded. "Don't worry, I've got eight more."

"What?" Yang choked, trying to climb to her feet. "You've-" She stopped, seeing Blake's face break into a smile. She closed her mouth, glaring at the Faunus girl. "You bitch." She said, cracking into a smile herself.

She glanced down at Blake's belly, seeing that she had closed the wound successfully with her Aura's healing abilities. Though blood still stained her fragile skin, Yang felt the sickness in her stomach fade.

She looked back at the door.

"Go." She heard Blake say. Yang raised an eyebrow. "I know you're thinking of chasing them. Go. The police are still on their way, I can handle things here."

Yang grinned, twirling her motorcycle keys in her fingers already. She stood, ready to bolt for the door, before Blake caught her jacket and stopped her. "Gauntlets, Yang." She reminded her with a purposefully nagging tone.


	4. Chapter 4

Wind whipped at Yang's hair, billowing it out behind her like a golden cape, turned mottled brown like sand by the rain. The water sliced against her. Speed ripped the tiny droplets to her skin like needles and bullets as she stormed through the streets astride her mechanical beast.

The roar of the engine filled her; it reverberated through her hands, through tingling, bruised knuckles it vibrated with an immense energy. It roared between her legs, and the rumbling melded with her racing heart, creating a rhythm between adrenaline and gasoline as pulmonary pistons pumped together.

Slanted eyes, narrowed against the racing rain without their usual protection, perused every facet of the road. Even through the rippling water she could see the burns left by screeching tires – the tracks of her prey, she locked to their lead and launched her bike forward with victorious thunder.

The beast tore through the cover of storm, fearless amidst the swallowing torrents of rain and thunder. Flashes of black and yellow, stripes of the jaguar that gave chase through the urban jungle, would be all the world saw in the instant her roaring chase sped past.

No prey would escape the hunter. The telltale lights, solitary glowing red through the rain and shadow showed her target. She'd tracked the lumbering brutish machine through the covers of rain and black, but there her prey lay – waiting for the teeth of a huntress to sink in.

The van was no match for her motorcycle; even with the rain slicking her tires, the wind distorting her vision and chilling her soaked body to the bone, she bore down on the fleeing thugs with fearful speed.

With a flash of lightning and a masking clap of rolling thunder, the back door of the van burst open. Within, dust crystals loaded in racks and cases glowed, and afore their glow Yang caught sight of silhouettes.

Silhouettes that carried something… Twisted, elongated shapes, thin poles and handles that slid around and slicked into place with inaudible clicks.

Weapons.

Yang pulled to the right, swerving her bike to the side of the street as bursts of bullets popped through the rain with spouts of water punctuating their impact. Her rear wheel stuttered in the welling waters of the gutter, spurting a great column of foaming rain against the buildings behind her.

She swerved back, ducking her bike so close to the ground the rising water kissed her hair and the shell of the vehicle near scraped the rough road.

Bullets rippled across the water before her, dull, ineffective attempts to deter her from the pursuit.

A swath of shot passed across her, but her shield of aura pulsed with their presence, eviscerating the attempts to harm her and her beast in a shine of golden light.

Something bigger passed between the silhouettes, long, thick and round, like a bat. Until, that is, it transformed. Yang glimpsed the movement along the weapon's edge through the blocked light, and her eyes shot wide when it slid into place.

With screeching tires and a wall of water tossed into the air, Yang diverted her bike, sliding along an adjacent street as the thugs fired behind. She didn't glimpse back, scanning the street ahead for another turn immediately, but the heat that met her back and the blast that drowned out her revving engine confirmed her guess.

"Junior." She muttered, spitting into the gutter as the word filled her mouth with rainwater. Her jaw set tight, and she swerved down the next street, revving her bike relentlessly with a screeching howl as the land rose in a steep hill.

The street curved towards her previous path, and leveled out with a rail overlooking the street. Below, she easily saw the shape of the van, and a dark smirk crossed her face. Teeth flashed light lightning, and she slid one hand from the handlebars.

A swift jab pulled Ember Celica into motion, sliding the weapon across her forearm and ejecting a single casing into the air. She reached out with a pointed finger, closing one eye to level her arm at the van. Her fingernail lined with the edge of her gauntlet, like the forward post of her arm's iron sights. She closed her fist.

Punches fired shells across the air, streaking bolts of flaming red after the van. It swerved, screeching and tossing water from its wheels as it struggled to maneuver away from the blasts.

The panel slid open amidst the movement. Lightning flashed. Yang glimpsed Roman's face. Not a moment later, a bolt of bright light, burning like a launched firework ready to burst, sped towards her.

Yang slid her bike away from the edge, letting the blast rip the asphalt into the air to arc harmlessly over her head across to the empty sidewalk. Yang grinned.

She had an idea. A crazy idea. All her best ones were, after all.

Sliding her feet higher on the bike, Yang ripped her hand over the handlebar, revving the engine higher than ever. Torque shot the bike out beneath her, and she barely stayed astride it as it flew into a wheelie.

She leaned all her weight to the side, charging towards the railing, and pulled back at the last second.

Her front wheel rose up from the ground, crashing through the rail, and she flew out through the open air.

Yang let go of the bike, pushing herself gently upwards as it glided forward from under her. She rose weightlessly from the machine, graceful as an angel in flight, and at the last moment, as she passed over the van, she gripped the back of the bike, holding herself out the back like a free-flowing flag.

With her free hand, she rained down a dozen shots, driving blasts through the street all around the van. It swerved and careered before a shot hit lucky, crashing down on one corner and causing the vehicle to flip.

Yang pulled herself swiftly onto her bike again, leveling her weight before the landing and spinning her wheels in preparation.

The van crashed along on its roof, flipping back aboard its wheels at the end of its scraping, spraying assailment as Yang touched down with a violent jerk that threatened to toss her onto the rough and ruthless road.

She skidded to a stop a distance from the van. Thunder rolled with unseen lightning as she flicked the keys and swung her leg from the bike.

A figure burst from the van's side door, hand raised towards Yang.

Fireworks squealed through the air, crashing into the road and sending slabs of stone into the air amidst a wall of fire. Yang dove to the ground, ignoring the burning pain as her elbows and knees grazed across the rough asphalt.

Through deafening crash of concrete and ripping touch of rain, Yang watched. An airship swept across the harbour before her, barely visible were it not for the giant searchlight through the fire, debris and rain.

It dropped a hook, grabbing the van, and took off once more.

They got away.

In mere seconds they had escaped. Yang cursed, crawling to her feet and sweeping her drenched locks out of her face. "Why is it always a damn airship?" She muttered, gazing about at the devastated street.

_There would be a lot of questions to be answered after this._ She realised as distant sirens broke the monotony of the rain. _And a lot of explaining._


End file.
